Chapter Text
✧༺✦✮✦༻∞ 𓆩🖤𓆪 ∞༺✦✮✦༻✧
NINETEEN YEARS AGO
✧༺✦✮✦༻∞ 𓆩🖤𓆪 ∞༺✦✮✦༻✧
It wasn't often Batman called for a meeting at the Hall of Justice. Frankly, it wasn't often that Batman took any real initiative with his position in the Justice League in general. So when Superman and the others were asked to be present by the Dark Knight himself, it wasn't on anyone's agenda to refuse. Along with Superman, Wonder Woman, The Green Lantern Hal Jordan, Green Arrow and the Flash were all in attendance. They sat around the center conference table in the Hall, brimming with theories.
"So?" said Flash. "Anyone have any clue?"
"Not a hint," said Lantern. "I wondered if maybe Gotham might have been under more direct threat, but I did a flyover recently. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary."
"It can't be anything terrible," said Wonder Woman. "If it was, he would have told us directly. Wouldn't he?" No one had a solid answer.
"Whatever it is," said Superman, "we should offer our support in any way we can."
"You think he might be going through something?" Arrow asked.
"I can't be sure," Superman said. "But he's a member of this League. We need to trust that he's reaching out to us for a reason. Especially since he never has before."
Lantern grunted. "Yeah. That's the part that cheeses me, to be honest. He's the one who considers himself a part-timer."
"He's a founding member of this organization," Superman reminded him. "He deserves to be regarded as such." Lantern said nothing.
The doors opened, and Batman stood before them all. His closed cape, black as the night itself, trailed at his feet. His face beneath the cowl was expressionless as it always was. It unnerved Superman in all honesty, but he'd never admit it. Hoping to set an example, Superman stood from his seat and addressed Batman directly.
"We're all here," he said. "As you requested, Batman."
Batman's eyes scanned the room. He nodded. "Thank you," he said, his voice gravelly and detached. "I realize that this may be unorthodox. But given the circumstances, I would rather all of you find this out directly than by happenstance. I have taken on a partner."
Eyes widened, and jaws dropped. The room was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop. From two rooms away. Flash was the first to speak, turned to Arrow. "Did you know about this?"
"Why would I know?"
"I dunno, you're the only two without any powers--"
"Not this again."
"Gentlemen." Superman's voice was stern, and it squashed the bickering quickly. He turned back to Batman. "Thank you for coming to us with this news. So who is this new man? Or woman," Superman added, glancing at Wonder Woman. "I'm sure we'd be thrilled to meet them."
Lantern scoffed, and put his hands behind his head. "I don't know," he said. "If they're anything like you, Batsy, I might want to pass."
"Dude," Flash mumbled.
"What? It's true. It's bad enough we have one brooding entity that communicates by scowling. But two of them? No offence, Batman."
"Whoever Batman has chosen to be his partner will be treated with respect, Green Lantern," said Superman. He turned back to Batman. "Are they here?"
Batman nodded, and took one step to the side. The dark and mysterious crime fighter they all expected was completely absent. Instead, all eyes dropped down to the face of a bright and chipper nine year old, dressed in the loudest costume any one of them had ever seen. A red tunic with a green leotard, pointed green shoes, and a bright yellow cape. On his chest was a proud R insignia, and when he smiled, his mask scrunched, and his wide mouth revealed a missing tooth.
"Everyone," said Batman. "This is Robin."
The League was stunned into silence. All except Arrow, who managed to mumble out: "Is that a grade schooler?"
Robin put his fists on his hips and puffed out his chest. "They call me Robin! Boy Wonder, and equal half of the Dynamic Duo!" Just to show off, Robin took a running start and jumped, doing a series of cartwheels and handsprings across the table, landing at the very end behind Lantern and Arrow. He straightened up and turned to them both. "Oh wow! When Br--er--when Batman said I'd be meeting the League, I didn't realize you'd all be here!" Without warning, Robin pulled on Green Arrow's quiver to take a look inside.
"Hey--!" Arrow pulled it out of his reach.
"Woah! How many of your specialty arrows are in here? Do you have the one that turns into a boxing glove?"
"Uh..."
"And Green Lantern!" Robin bounced, his little hands in fists. "Oh boy, I've heard all about you! Can you really make anything with your ring?"
Lantern smiled awkwardly. "Anything I can think of, sure."
"How about... a giant chicken?!"
"Well let's see." Lantern pointed his fist into the center of the table. From his ring came a projection of a massive, cock-eyed chicken. It pecked at the table, dumbly.
Robin broke into a fit of giggles. "That's so cool!" He turned to spot Flash, who was still slack-jawed at the sight of him. Robin gasped. "And you're the Flash! Fastest man alive!"
Flash blinked and smiled. "Damn right--"
"Flash," Lantern warned.
"Er. Darn right, I mean. Nice to meet you, kiddo." He held out his hand, and Robin shook it with both of his.
"Well..." Wonder Woman, getting over her shock, put her hands in her lap. "He's certainly enthusiastic."
Robin gasped and vaulted over the table to land at Wonder Woman's side. "Wonder Woman! Warrior princess of Themyscira! Paradise Island!" He held up his fists, mimicking Wonder Woman's fighting pose. "Gauntlets that deflect bullets, a lasso that forces the truth! The bravest woman in the world!"
Wonder Woman's smile pinched her eyes. "There are plenty of brave women in the world, young one," she said. "I'm no one special in that regard."
That's when Robin's eyes turned to the man standing behind her. His mask widened, and one could almost see the stars behind his mask. "And you're... oh..." He approached, as if pulled in by some sort of Kryptonian tractor beam. "You're... Superman..."
Superman, with a smile, knelt down so that they were eye-to-eye. "Nice to meet you, Robin." He held out his hand for Robin to take. Robin was so starstruck he could barely move. And so, Superman took his hand himself and shook it gently. "I've never met a superhero your age before," he said. "You must be someone very special." Without a word, Robin threw himself at Superman's chest and hugged him tight. Superman chuckled, returning the hug. He didn't let go until Robin started to pull away.
"Is it true you never get hurt?"
"Not necessarily," said Superman. "Though I am bulletproof. And train-proof. And, gosh, I think a building fell on me recently."
"And you can fly!"
"Sure can."
"And you shoot laser beams out your eyes!"
"Heat vision, yes."
"And you eat metal!"
Superman blinked. "Well that... I mean... technically speaking--"
"Robin." Robin looked up at Batman's call. He rushed to Batman's side and stood dutifully. "Do you remember what we practiced?"
Robin nodded, his smile having yet to leave his peachy pink face. He cleared his throat and stood tall and proud. "I, Robin, do hereby vow to devote my life to protecting the innocent and serving justice. Should I be accepted into the Justice League of America, it would be my honor and privilege to serve the League and its cause un-yell-ding-ly."
"Unyieldingly," Batman corrected.
"Yeah, that!"
Wonder Woman's smile brightened. "Well, given that you have been hand selected by one of our founding members, I see no reason to object. We are honored to include you in our ranks, young Robin. Welcome to the Justice League."
"Really!? Oh boy, oh boy! I'm in the Justice League! I'm in the Justice League!" Beside himself with excitement, he did flips and jumps all around the hall, eliciting applause and laughter from the other members. "This is the best day of my life!" He did a flying leap off the table, only to be caught by an oversized catcher's mitt from Lantern's ring.
"Batman." Superman's voice was low, and went unheard by the rest. "Think we could have a word?" Batman nodded, and the two exited into the hallway for privacy. "How old is that boy?" he asked.
"Does it matter?"
"Yes, it very much does." Superman's arms folded, his brow knit firmly. "That is a child in there, Batman. In what world is it appropriate to indoctrinate a child into crime fighting?"
"Robin is a capable partner. He's agile, fast, tenacious--"
"He's a kid."
Batman's expression didn't change. "His age doesn't negate his talent."
"Oh for the love of--Whether or not he's talented is beside the point. He's too young to be fighting crime at all hours of the night. And in Gotham of all places."
"What's wrong with Gotham?"
"What isn't wrong with Gotham?"
"So you'd rather he be in Metropolis fighting space imps?"
"I'd rather he not be anywhere fighting anything at all."
Batman's eyes narrowed. "I know what I'm doing."
"Do you? Do you really?" When Batman didn't answer, Superman shook his head. "I can't believe this. You have proven yourself many times over as an intelligent and capable ally. But this? I can't in good conscience condone this. It's unthinkable."
"He's my ward."
"He's a boy. He needs to be going to school and making friends and eating his vegetables."
"Are you retracting his membership to this organization?"
"Oh don't do that."
"Do what?"
"Make me out to be the bad guy here. I'm not the bad guy." Superman put his hands on his hips and turned away. His jaw locked as he lost himself in thought. "Does he have a family?"
"No."
"You're sure?"
Batman hesitated. He glanced at the door, but nobody beyond Superman could hear them so far away. "He saw them die. We both did."
Superman sobered. He turned to him with a softened expression. "How did they...?"
"It was an accident. His parents were acrobats. So was he. They were performing without a net, and their cables broke. Robin watched them fall."
Superman was silent for a long while. His blue eyes dipped, and it was clear the new information was enough to reconsider some things. "And he has no one else to take him in?"
"The circus offered to take him back. He won't go. He's haunted by the memories of his parents."
Superman rubbed his neck. He took a deep breath. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"
"Yes." A silence lingered between them. "Have I earned your trust as a member of this League?"
"Of course you have."
"Then trust me now. I know what he's going through. I'm the only one who can help him."
"If you're sure..."
"I am."
Superman sighed in defeat. "I don't like this."
"I know."
"And I don't approve."
"I know that too."
"But... if you're sure. Then I guess I'll have to trust you."
It was subtle and slight, but Batman's shoulders seemed to relax just a touch. "Thank you, Superman."
The door opened at that perfect moment, and Robin bounded out in a blur of red and gold. "Batman, Batman! Look!" He held up an arrow in one hand, the head of which was shaped like a small, brown boxing glove. "He really has them!"
"We should be heading out soon," said Batman. "Return the arrow and say your goodbyes."
"Aww," said Robin. "But Wonder Woman was going to show me wrestling moves!"
"Another time."
"Alright." Robin glanced at Superman. With a grin double the size of his little face, he ran forward and hugged Superman tight around the waist. Superman laid his hand on Robin's head. "It was so good to finally meet you," said Robin. Leaning up, he motioned Superman to bend down so that he could whisper: "Don't tell Batman, but you're my favorite."
Superman's smile was warm and tender. "Thank you, Robin." He watched as Robin scurried back into the room to continue his goodbyes. Superman glanced Batman's way, whose stony face hadn't changed a lick. Realizing there was nothing left to say, Superman exited down the hall out of the building. The night air was crisp, and Superman floated up to the roof of the Hall for a better view of the skyline. The world was calm tonight. No great emergencies demanded his attention. And so he allowed himself to dwell on the newest member of their League.
A child. An orphaned child who saw their parents die. How did Batman think that this was acceptable? Why did he think that? Superman may have said he trusted him, but there were still doubts. What kind of parent was the Batman, anyway? Superman could only imagine the kind of strict rules poor little Robin was subjected to. What's more, what kind of training was the poor boy made to do? Hour-long obstacle courses? Inhumane tests of will or stamina? Superman realized he wouldn't be able to rest until he knew the answer.
Down below, he heard the motor of the Batmobile. The sleek, black vehicle made its exit from the underground lot and sped off into the city. Superman, making sure to stay out of sight, gave chase. As they drove, Superman honed his sensitive ears to listen in on the conversation.
"...and Wonder Woman even said that I reminded her of herself! Can you believe that?"
"Amazons are raised to be warriors. It doesn't surprise me that she'd make the connection."
"Wow... I can't believe I'm part of the Justice League. The Justice League! Hey, do I get some kind of pin? Do I get my own locker, or maybe, like, a t-shirt?"
"I'll talk to Oli about t-shirts if you want me to."
"Yes, please!"
Superman frowned. Robin's voice was easily distinguishable from the excited little scamp he and the rest met earlier. But Batman's voice was completely different. No longer did he speak in the emotionless drawl they were all used to. Now, he spoke with a warmth and kindness that was completely foreign to his mysterious persona. Superman knew that Batman must have had some kind of secret identity; they all did. But for some reason, Superman assumed that Batman's was almost identical to who he was in the suit.
The Batmobile turned off the highway and took a long, country road. All the while, Superman kept his ear to the car. At one point, he heard Batman encourage Robin to take a nap, and soon, the car ride went silent. Superman followed them all the way into Gotham, but rather than drive into the heart of the city, the Batmobile took a detour. It drove through a wooded area on the eastern side, and came to a beautiful waterfall in the center of a remote part of wilderness. To Superman's shock, the Batmobile drove straight through the water, and vanished within the rock.
Superman's eyes narrowed. By the use of his x-ray vision, he tracked the Batmobile at least fifty yards underground before coming to a stop. It was difficult to make out the details from so far away, but Superman was able to detect some kind of hideaway, like a cave or a bunker. An old man approached the car as Batman got out from the driver's side.
"Welcome home, Master Bruce. How did it go?"
"Better than expected."
"Excellent news, sir."
Batman came around the other side of the car and opened the door. He revealed a sleepy Robin in his arms. "We're home."
"Mm?" Robin yawned.
"You remember our deal?"
"It's so late," said the old man. "Perhaps Master Dick can do his homework another time?"
Robin yawned again. "No, I promised. I can do it."
Superman cut off his x-ray vision with a confused frown. Looking up from the mountain, he saw a gorgeous old manor house sitting directly on top of it. Flying to the other side, he recognized it quickly. It was so distinct, he doubted if anyone couldn't.
Wayne Manor. The ancestral home of Bruce Wayne, orphaned son of Thomas and Martha. The so-called Prince of Gotham. Superman knew him from his charitable work, but not much else. He quickly realized why.
Batman was Bruce Wayne. It was a ridiculous thing to think, but what other conclusion was there?
Once again, Superman activated his x-ray vision. He located Batman and Robin sitting at a kitchen table over an open book and plates of dinner. Meatloaf and broccoli. Well, at least he was getting his vegetables... He watched as Batman helped his young ward with timetables and fractions, encouraging him when he figured things out on his own. After homework and dinner, Batman walked Robin to bed, and Superman let his x-ray vision fade.
Flying closer to the house, he sat on the roof, conflicted. Of all the things he expected out of Batman, Superman was ashamed to think that none of what he saw even came close. Frankly, nothing about his colleague hinted at a paternal instinct of any kind. If Superman hadn't liked what he saw, he had no qualms with stepping in and taking over himself. Now, he could only accept that he was sitting with a massive amount of egg on his face.
This boy, whoever he was, wasn't just Batman's partner in crime-fighting. There was care there. Patience. Superman was sure that it hadn't been easy for Batman to open up to anyone, let alone a child. Superman recalled Robin's trauma, and understood the kind of deep connection the two of them must have shared. After all, Bruce Wayne was only eight years old when his own parents were gunned down in front of him.
Superman wasn't sure how long he sat there. But by the time he blinked out of his thoughts, the half moon was already sinking low on the horizon. Superman ascended a foot off the roof, prepared to head back to Metropolis with his tail between his legs, when he heard it. The stifled cry of a child in distress.
Superman whipped around and activated his x-ray vision. He was quick to find Robin in bed, screaming out in the darkness. But before he could fly to the boy's window--
"Dick...!" Batman was at Robin's bedside in a flash. Sitting down on the edge, he gently woke Robin from his nightmare. Robin's eyes snapped open, and after a second more, he fell into Batman's arms with great, heaving sobs. Batman held him as any father would, and rocked him gently in his lap. "Shh... It's okay... I'm here..."
"I saw them--" Robin whimpered. "I saw them fall--"
"I know. I know." Batman pet Robin's cowlicked hair. "I'm here, Dick. It was just a bad dream."
Robin sniffled, his little hands clinging to Batman's shirt. "Can I sleep in your bed?"
Batman didn't answer. Instead, he pulled Robin up and held him close. They walked together back to Batman's room, and the minute Robin hit the pillows, he was out like a light. Batman sat next to him, his hand in Robin's hair. He waited until Robin was fast asleep, and kissed the top of his head.
Superman had seen enough. Closing his eyes, he realized that they were itching with tears. He wiped his face with the back of his wrist and took a breath. Without a sound, he turned and took off to the sky.
Clearly, he wasn't needed here.
✧༺✦✮✦༻∞ 𓆩🖤𓆪 ∞༺✦✮✦༻✧
PRESENT DAY
✧༺✦✮✦༻∞ 𓆩🖤𓆪 ∞༺✦✮✦༻✧
The annual mayoral fundraising event had taken off without a hitch, with press and celebrities alike enjoying the beautiful flora of Mayor Hill's private garden. A wide plot of land that encompassed the mayor's impressive estate, it was the perfect spot to host that year's benefactors. Hill had hired a live quartet for music and an open bar for patrons. Appetizers floated by on gilded plates; everything from caviar to foie gras and gold leaf desserts. It was exactly the kind of party Bruce hated, but was always expected to attend. At least tonight he wouldn't have to suffer alone.
"Ugh." Damian yanked on his collar with a finger. He was dressed in a shirt, suspenders and a bowtie of the latest fashion for young men. "How come Jason doesn't need to do any of this?"
"Because Jason is technically dead," Dick reminded him. He wore a suit of midnight blue, his black dress shirt kept open and casual with no need for a tie.
"So?"
"Just behave," said Tim. He wore a vest of red-backed silk, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. "And try not to insult anyone." Damian glowered.
Bruce, handsome as ever in an Armani suit of charcoal black, put his hands in his pockets and flashed his boys a smile. "I appreciate this," he said. "I promise, we won't be here longer than an hour."
"Ah, the Waynes!" Mayor Hill approached them with open arms. He and Bruce shook hands. "So good to see you again, Bruce. Fashionably late as ever."
"Well when you have three boys to wrangle, time gets away from you," Bruce smiled. "Oh, have you met my son Damian?"
"A new one! Well well." Hill held his hand out for Damian to shake. Damian harshed his eyes, and Hill retracted his hand. "Urm..."
"He's not very social," said Tim, casually. "Just be sure to keep your fingers away from his mouth, and you'll be fine--ow!" He winced as Damian kicked the back of his ankle.
"Damian, Tim," warned Bruce. "I'm so sorry, Hamilton."
"Not a problem," said Hill. "I know how it goes." He spotted Dick and greeted him with a hearty handshake. "This must be Richard! Goodness, I remember when you were half this height."
Dick laughed. "Nice to see you again, Mayor Hill."
"Please, come on in, make yourselves comfortable." Hill gestured to the rest of the party, and the four wandered in. "And Bruce, whenever you get the chance, I'd love to talk about a contribution from you to the reelection campaign."
"Of course," said Bruce. "So long as we can discuss your plans for Gotham's homeless population. I have plenty of ideas for low income housing I'd like to run by you."
Hill's smile strained, but he nodded. "Naturally, naturally."
Tim was the first one at the refreshment table, having spotted the espresso machine next to the gourmet cupcakes. He took a sip and scrunched his face.
"What's the matter?" said Dick. "Not up to your standards?"
"It's the cheap stuff." Tim tossed it into the hedge behind the table. "You'd think he could afford something Italian."
Dick helped himself to a cup and shrugged. "Seems fine to me."
"You have the pallet of a college student."
"Hey, I'm almost thirty."
"My point stands."
Off in the thick of it, Damian had decided to stick to Bruce's side, figuring it was the better option than risk getting caught up in some old woman's cooing over his bowtie. He listened with disinterest as Bruce was swooned over by eligible widows and money hungry politicians. Bruce took all the attention with the grace of a well-practiced socialite. Damian didn't know how he did it.
"So then I asked my dear husband if he'd help me with the washing up," an elderly woman was saying. "Dear Jeremy died right then and there! Ha! Can you believe that? If only I knew it was so easy, I would have made him do dishes years ago." Bruce laughed politely, and the woman fluttered her eyelashes. "Are you the kind of man to do dishes, Mr. Wayne?"
Bruce never lost his charm. "Only when it's my butler's day off."
"How about the kids?" a gentleman asked. "I'd imagine a house full of boys would be something of a headache from time to time."
"Not at all," said Bruce. He put his hand on Damian's shoulder, and Damian tried not to appear too proud. "Each of my sons had their unique challenges, but I couldn't be prouder of any of them. Damian here is currently top of his class."
"Oh how lovely," the widow twittered. She leaned down and spoke to Damien like he was six. "You must take after your father quite a bit! I can see the resemblance. Though your mother must have been a beauty. Look at those eyes."
"Please refrain from commenting further on my appearance," said Damian bluntly. "It's making me uncomfortable."
The widow blinked and straightened up. She turned to Bruce, clearly waiting for a reprimand, but Bruce did nothing. "He is a bit smart, I suppose," she sniffed.
Bruce didn't remove his hand from Damian's shoulder. "I've always been an advocate for my children's personal boundaries. In my house, if something makes them uncomfortable, they tell me."
"Well." The widow pursed her lips. "I suppose to each their own. My mother would have smacked me for being so disrespectful."
Rather than fight back, Bruce wore a look of earnest sympathy. "Oh dear. That must have been awful for you. I'm so sorry." The widow burned beet red, and Damien bit his lips to keep from smiling too much.
"Excuse me, Mr. Wayne. I was wondering if I could get a quote?"
Bruce's social facade melted away in an instant. His eyes lit up, and his smile grew genuine. He turned, and was now face to face with a curly haired, bespeckled reporter, a badge from the Daily Planet hanging off of his neck. Clark Kent's own smile radiated, and suddenly, the evening party seemed brighter.
"Clark Kent. Who let you in here?"
Clark shook Bruce's hand. "Good to see you again." A few eyes flickered their way. Neither acknowledged the whispers that followed. After all, it was just a few months ago when the tabloids were all the rage over the "marriage" between the two. Too bad the whole thing proved to be a publicity stunt. Even so, neither man seemed at all ashamed of it.
"Hi again, Damian," Clark greeted. "You look sharp."
"I feel like a rump-roast."
"Here." Leaning in, Clark loosened Damian's tie. "Better?" Damian nodded. Clark was just straightening back up when Damian suddenly latched onto his neck. Clark laughed and stood easily, letting Damian hang off his shoulders. He kept him upright by his waist. "Why don't we all have a seat?"
"Sounds good to me," said Bruce.
The three wandered over to a table where Tim and Dick were chatting over hors d'oeuvres. Dick was the first to spot them approach. "Hey, Clark," he smiled. He pointed at Damian, who hadn't let him go. "You've got a little growth there." Damian scowled, and Clark let him down to his feet. They each took their seats, with Clark and Bruce seated next to one another.
"How are you enjoying the party?" Clark asked.
"It's dull," said Tim, spearing a pickled turnip with his fork. He examined it. "And the food sucks."
"We'll get burgers after this," Bruce promised them. He turned to Clark. "So? You wanted an interview?"
"Ah, yeah." Clark removed a pen and notebook. "First, how about a quote from the boys? Are we getting interested in politics?"
Damian snorted. "If this is what passes as politics, I'll gladly remain an anarchist."
"Maybe don't print that," said Dick.
"It's a good opportunity to reach out to Gotham's elected officials," Tim said diplomatically. "I'm sure the Planet has reported on the Wayne Foundation's countless efforts to effect real change within Gotham's community. It's a gradual process, but events like these are ample opportunities to make sure our representatives remain focused on the good of their constituents."
Damian snorted. "Show off."
"That's an excellent quote," said Clark, scribbling it down in his notebook. "Bruce?"
"Honestly, I couldn't have said it any better myself." Bruce rested his chin in his hand and smiled. "Just more evidence that my kids are smarter than me, I think." Beneath the table, the toe of Bruce's shoe found its way just under Clark's warm gray pant leg. Clark sat up straight, the tips of his ears burning at the contact. "What do you think, Clark? Think Tim might be ready to take over Wayne Enterprises?"
"Uh..." Clark cleared his throat, trying to ignore the gentle scrape of Bruce's shoe on his skin. "Maybe in a few more years. He is only sixteen."
"Seventeen," Tim corrected.
"Right, seventeen. Sorr--" Bruce's shoe rose a bit, and Clark swallowed. He put on a smile, hoping to mask the goosebumps on his neck. "Erm, let's move on. Mr. Wayne." His voice cracked and he cleared his throat again. "Mr. Wayne, what do you think of Mayor Hill's actions while he's been in office?"
"Oh I'm sure he's trying his best," said Bruce. His shoe pushed down the argyle sock down Clark's ankle. He toyed with it, making Clark tighten his hand on his pen. "Still, I'd like to see more of an effort in regards to social services. You know I'm very... passionate about giving back."
Clark could feel the smooth shine of Bruce's shoe brush up further under his pant leg. There was a twitch between his thighs and he clenched his knees together. "U-um... Bruce..."
Bruce stood from his seat. "I think I'm going to stretch my legs a bit," he announced. No one bothered to stop him. They watched as Bruce wandered casually into the hedge maze just beyond the rose garden.
Clark released a tense breath. "Boy... he is..." He glanced at the three Wayne children staring at him. Clark's whole face went bright red. "Sorry--"
"Well?" said Dick.
"Well what?"
"Aren't you going to go after him?"
Clark felt himself gagged, but after a bit of thought, he nodded and stood from the table. "Er. Yeah, I--I should check on him. You know. Make sure he doesn't fall down a well."
"There aren't any wells here," said Damian.
"Erm. I--uh--there might be."
"Just go," said Tim with a smile. Clark waved before scuttling into the hedge maze. Tim shook his head. "Those two are worse than Dick and Kori."
"Yeah," Damian agreed.
"Mm." Dick blinked. "Hey, wait a minute--"
The hedge maze was tall. Tall enough to obscure Clark's large frame from sight, and certainly tall enough to keep him from peeking over the tops. His stomach did tap dances as he rounded the corner, searching for Bruce Wayne in the foliage. "Bruce?" He took a few more curious steps. Suddenly, a hand shot out from around the bend and yanked Clark into the shadows. He yelped, but soon found himself attacked by a pair of familiar lips. Clark laughed against Bruce's kisses, his arms wrapped around his narrow waist. "Jeeze, way to give me a heart attack."
"Sorry," Bruce mumbled. Their kisses were playful, lingering between little gasps and breathy giggles. At one point, Clark rolled them into one of the hedges and hoisted Bruce's leg onto his hip. Bruce ground his lower half into Clark's, a slick tongue invading Clark's luscious lips. "You haven't been around," he grumbled.
"I've been busy," Clark panted. "And so have you."
They fell into more kisses. "I've been thinking about getting a penthouse in Metropolis. You know. A vacation spot."
Clark sucked on Bruce's lower lip, letting it bounce back into place. "What happened to not letting this get in the way?"
"It won't," said Bruce. "But maybe, from time to time, I let the kids handle things. Just for a night. Or three."
Clark chuckled. "Bruce Wayne, I never thought I'd see the day when you'd want to do anything besides work."
"Maybe I've been thinking about retirement."
"God, no. Don't say that. What would I do with myself?"
"I can give you a few suggestions."
Their kisses deepened. Bruce wrapped his arms tight around Clark's neck, and his hooked leg yanked Clark as close as he could manage without taking off his clothes. There was a pleasant stiffness to both of them, and the friction was starting to make Bruce's skin crawl. "Maybe we should get out of here," Bruce muttered. "Dick can take the boys home."
Clark slid his tongue between Bruce's lips, flicking it tauntingly. "I could fly us to a motel."
"A motel? What am I, a prom date? I'll give my people a call at the Ritz downtown. We can have a suite ready in an hour."
"Only the best for you, huh, Brucie?"
"Only the best for you."
They laughed together, and Clark squeezed Bruce's bottom with a wide, firm hand. Bruce's breath hitched, and they once more gobbled each other up with reckless abandon. Until, that is, Clark's head snapped up, and his sensitive ears twitched.
"What is it?" Bruce asked.
"Someone's coming," Clark mumbled. He grabbed Bruce by his legs. "Hang on." In a blink, he zipped them around the hedges and into a dark, unlit corner. They remained silent, listening through the leaves. It was a man on the phone. Bruce recognized the voice.
"That's Hill," he whispered. Clark narrowed his eyes.
"...don't appreciate you calling me in the middle of my benefit," came Hill's voice. "Yes, I'm well aware, but--I'm not having this conversation over the phone. Because, sir, there's no promise that it won't be tapped." He paused, just barely in view through the hedge leaves. Bruce and Clark strained to listen. "Yes, he was here. I don't know that." He paused again. "Why does this matter to you? Well if you're not going to tell me, you can just--" Someone on the other end shouted loud enough for Hill to pull the phone away. "Look, you're a businessman. I'm not interested in working with you unless I can get a promise on some campaign funds. Mmhm. Mhm. Fine." Hill sighed. "Yes. Clark Kent was here tonight. I can't promise that I saw him with Bruce Wayne, but he was here nonetheless."
Clark's stomach dropped. Bruce turned to him with a hardened expression. Clark honed his ears.
"I need to know the status of their relationship, Mr. Hill."
"Why on God's green Earth do you need to know that?"
"I have my reasons. Did it look like Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent were an item?"
"I don't know."
"Then what good are you to me?"
Hill sighed deeply. "When I last looked over, he was sitting at the table with Wayne and his brats."
"You're sure?"
"Very. Kent is hard to miss."
There was a pause on the other line. "Thank you, Mr. Hill. You can expect a hearty donation tomorrow morning for your reelection campaign."
"Will do. Thank you again, Mr. Luthor.”